


Three times is an enemy action.

by Signe_chan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/pseuds/Signe_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint drunkenly climbs in the wrong window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three times is an enemy action.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt 
> 
> "i really want an “i accidentally broke into your house/apartment because my friend lives next door to you and i was in the area, drunk, and i thought i was climbing into the right window and falling asleep on the right couch (and i did wonder when my friend got two cats but i didn’t question it) so now i’m hungover and shirtless in your living room so um hi howya doin” au"
> 
> Found here - http://tickatocka.tumblr.com/post/85456038831/i-really-want-an-i-accidentally-broke-into-your
> 
> Title from the quote "Once is an accident. Twice is coincidence. Three times is an enemy action."

**The Accident**

Clint woke up with a start. He blinked around blearily, taking a second to look at the curious cat that was sat staring at him from the coffee table in Nat’s living room. It was watching him back just as intently, tail swinging backwards and forwards like it was trying to work out why he was there. 

It took an embarrassingly long time for him to work out that Natasha didn’t own a cat. Or a coffee table. Or, for that matter, a comfortable leather sofa like the one he’d been sleeping on. Hers was a beast of a floral thing she’d found at a swap meet and hated but kept out of sheer stubbornness. 

He sat up as quickly as he could, jerking around to look for his shirt (or, you know, a clue to here he was) and froze when he realized what had woken him up. There was a man stood in the doorway to the bedroom and, well, he definitely wasn’t Natasha. He was good looking, kind of stern maybe, though that might just because there was a stranger asleep on his couch. He was also carrying a gun. 

“Hi,” Clint said slowly, raising his hands above his head. He spotted the shirt in the doorway to the kitchen. “I think maybe I’m in the wrong place…” 

“I think maybe you are,” the man agreed. He lowered his gun and little and Clint let out a sigh. Really didn’t like having guns pointed at him. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Clint Barton,” Clint said quickly, scrambling to his feet to shake hands but the man raised his gun again, stopping Clint in his tracks. “Look, I’m really sorry about this. I was looking for someone else last night. A friend of mine. She’s called Natasha Romanov?” 

There was a brief hint of recognition about the man’s face and Clint relaxed a little. If he could only get Nat involved she’d probably vouch for him and then this entire thing would be over. Probably. 

“How did you get in here?” the man asked. 

“Window,” Clint said with a shrug. “The kitchen windows open pretty easily from the outside.” 

“You came in through the kitchen window?” the man asked. He was looking impressed now. It was a good look on him. 

“Yeah,” Clint confirmed. “Climbed across on the ledge from the fire escape. Probably not a good idea when I’m drunk but I’m not known for good ideas. Let me guess, you’re one floor down from Nat?” 

“One floor up, actually,” the man said, slowly lowering his gun again. Clint let out a breath, which unfortunately seemed to set something off inside him. Don’t misunderstand, he’d been feeling pretty crappy before but it was like his body had decided it knew where it was and they weren’t in IMMEDIATE danger so it’d like to remind him that he’d had far too much to drink last night. He did, at least, make it to the bathroom before making a mess all over the floor. 

He must have looked pretty pitiful because while he lay there clutching his stomach on the tiles the stranger went and brought him some ice water and painkillers. He took them thankfully, probably offering his first born child in payment which made the stranger snort in laughter. Apparently the stranger liked him enough to go and fetch Natasha as she was there soon, swearing at him in Russian and apologizing to the stranger, who now seemed mostly amused, and peeling him off the floor. 

He just let her get on with it, eventually ending up snuggled down in her floral monstrosity of a couch and drifting back to sleep. 

***

He went up in the evening when he’d recovered with a thank you card, a bottle of nice-ish wine and an offer to clean the bathroom. The stranger took the wine and the card, looking bemused, and assured Clint he’d already cleaned the bathroom and it’d be fine as long as Clint never puked in there again. In return Clint found out that the stranger's name was Phil, his cat was called Steve and that Clint’s hangover-induced impression hadn’t done him justice. The man was gorgeous. He wished they’d had a better start but, as it was, it wasn’t like he could ask the man out after all he’d done so far so he just turned and ran back to Natasha’s apartment. 

It was probably easier that way. 

 

**The Coincidence.**

Clint woke up with a scream as something landed on him. He bolted upright on instinct and there were a confusing few minutes full of his swearing, a cat meowing and clawing at any surface he could reach and Phil stumbling out of his bedroom in a rumpled t-shirt and boxers with his gun out. 

Phil looked at Clint. Clint looked at Phil. Steve the cat howled in indignation, took one final swipe at Clint’s nose and dived under the coffee table. 

Fuck, how was this his life? 

“What the hell are you doing here again?” Phil growled, and Clint wilted a little under the glare that accompanied it. 

“Don’t know?” Clint offered. “I maybe got drunk again…” 

“I thought I fit better locks,” Phil said, looking over to the kitchen window and Clint couldn’t help but blush. 

“Yeah, that probably wouldn’t help. In my last life, before I got the job I have not, it’s possible I maybe did some not very legal things. But I totally don’t do that now.” It was possible that letting Phil know about his criminal past wasn’t the best decision he’d made in a while, but what could you do? Phil looked at him and sighed as though he hadn’t been aware people could be so stupid and regretted finding out. 

“Is Natasha even in?” Phil asked, looking towards his door. Clint couldn’t help swearing, of course Natasha wasn’t in. He was such a fucking idiot. She was in Budapest. He’d known that. He’d probably gotten as far as Nat’s window last night, realized that and come up here instead. 

“I’ll go,” he said, when he finally managed to stop the swear words spilling out of his mouth. “I’m such an ass. I’m sorry for invading your place again.” 

“Wait,” Phil said, looking slightly lost. “You do realize my cat mauled you, right? You’re covered in scratches. You can’t just go wandering the streets.” 

“I’ve done worse,” Clint said, scrambling desperately for his shirt. “Plus, I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk or I’d be hungover as hell right now. Better get home before that shit hits.” 

“Look,” Phil said with the tone of voice Clint associated with a man who’d made a decision. “I’m not throwing you out on the street covered in cat scratches and still drunk. Let me fix you up and then you can stay on my couch until you’re feeling more human.” 

“You don’t have to…” 

“I know,” Phil said, turning to the bathroom. “But you didn’t murder me in my sleep last time so I’ll take this chance. It can be my good deed for the week.” 

“Totally is,” Clint agreed, sinking back down into the cushions and damn but Phil’s furniture was nicer than Nat’s. Phil came back a few minutes later and Clint sat patiently while Phil cleaned and bandaged his cuts. He guessed he should have done it himself but Phil just kind of took over and it was nice to have someone fuss over him. Especially someone as good looking as Phil. 

It was a shame he was an idiot who kept stumbling into the wrong apartment so he’d never have a chance. 

***

When he woke up again Phil didn’t comment over what a hungover mess he was but gave him painkillers and water and shoved him over on the couch so they could curl up next to each other and watch trashy TV. They bonded over their love of dog cops - the only thing low brow enough for Clint to focus on through his hangover. When he felt better in the early afternoon Clint made them a late lunch which they ate while watching children’s cartoons. After the cartoons Phil popped a DVD in without comment and Clint knew he should leave but he was comfortable and happy and Phil didn’t seem to hate having him there. 

Two more DVDs and a pizza later he finally drug himself home to his own dark empty apartment feeling lost and alone and wanting Phil more than ever. He was such a fuckup. 

 

**Enemy Action**

Clint woke slowly to the sound of footsteps and breathed a sigh of relief. He must have gotten the right place this time since nobody was screaming at him or throwing him out. And if a little part of him was kind of upset that he hadn’t woken up to Phil then that was nothing to complain about. 

He blinked his eyes open, taking a second to assess the familiar walls, the shelves of DVDs and books, the cat curled on the coffee table. 

Fuck everything, he’d done it again. He knew going out drinking again was stupid. He knew it was stupid to have a crush on a man he’d only met twice in the most ridiculous circumstances. He knew it was stupid to try to drown his feelings about Phil. He’d been worried he’d end up here, he wished he knew how worried turned into his deciding it was a really good idea.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rolling slowly over. Phil huffed a little laugh from the kitchen and appeared a few seconds later with a glass of water, painkiller and Clint’s shirt. Clint forced himself to sit up and accept the glass. He didn’t feel as bad as the last couple of times this happened but that wasn’t saying a lot. He’d still rather avoid thinking and moving for a while. “I swear I don’t normally drink so much. Or pass out on other people’s couches so much.” 

“It’s alright,” Phil said, and he sounded almost affectionate which couldn’t be right. 

“You want me to go to Nat’s?” he asked, making to stand up. Phil took a step back, taking Clint’s shirt with him. 

“Actually, I think we should talk and since you decided we should have this talk at 2am when you were drunk I think it’s only fair that we revisit it at 9am when you’re hungover.” 

“Shit,” Clint groaned, sinking back into the couch. “You were awake when I came in last night?” 

“Yes,” Phil agreed. He didn’t sound angry so Clint risked a look to see a small smile playing around Phil’s lips. 

“Go on,” Clint waved his hand at Phil. “Give me the damage.” 

“Well, you serenaded me from the fire escape,” Phil said, his smile turning ever so slightly evil. “Which might have upset my neighbors so I had to let you in.” 

“You know what,” Clint groaned, flopping onto his side. “Don’t tell me. I’ll live with not knowing.” 

“Once you were in you told me at great length how pretty my eyes were,” Phil carried on, moving closer to drop the painkillers on the table. Clint reached to grab them, taking a couple. At least he could start getting rid of his physical pain if Phil was going to do this to him. “And then you kept going on about how you wished you could ask me out but it was impossible. Why is it impossible, exactly?” 

“Because the only reason I know you is I keep breaking into your place and sleeping here,” Clint grumbled. 

“Other people might be put of by that,” Phil agreed. “I like to think myself above that.” 

“Wait,” Clint said, blinking up at Phil. “Did you just imply that I could ask you out?” 

“Yes,” Phil agreed. 

“You’re crazy,” Clint said before he could stop himself, then blushed again. 

“Probably,” Phil agreed. “But, if you get to know me, you’ll soon realize that on the scale of weird shit I deal with this doesn’t even register. And as pretty as you find my eyes I happen to think you have one hell of an ass.” 

“All you know about me is I used to do illegal shit,” Clint grumbled. 

“I’d like to think I’ve worked out more than that by now,” Phil said, and his smile was soft and genuine this time and Clint couldn’t help but return it. “The point of dating is to get to know more, anyway. There are a LOT of things about me you don’t know.” 

“I’m getting that,” Clint agreed, forcing himself up to at least sit upright on the couch for this. “So, you want to get coffee with me sometime?” 

“I’d like that,” Phil said, nodding. “Though first I’m thinking breakfast and bad TV again?” 

“Oh god yes,” Clint agreed, slumping back down into the cushions. “Yes to all of that. Also, you can totally come here and kiss me if you want.” 

“I would,” Phil said with a shrug. “I’m just still half afraid you’re going to puke on me and you probably taste terrible right now.” 

“That’s a good point,” Clint agreed. “Can I borrow your toothbrush?” 

“I’m sure, under the circumstances, that would be alright.” 

***

Phil kissed deeply and intensely. He gave good hugs while watching TV and turned out to be twice as awesome as Clint could have even imagined. Clint stopped climbing in other people’s windows after that, preferring to go in with Phil through the door. Natasha was very pleased by this turn of events.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Three Times Is Enemy Action [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5429507) by [litrapod (litra)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/litra/pseuds/litrapod)




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